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For the traveller without a homeland or a fixed identity, music can provide sweet consolation offering the chance to adopt a country based not in geography but the imagination, a self-created world. On Peter von Poehl s first album, Going to Where the Tea Trees Are, the Swedish traveller who for many years has split his life between Malm Berlin and Paris, conjured up the vague sense of discomfort that can accompany this nomadic life one spent floating between different landscapes, languages and cultures.
The album saw him create a universe all his own, a silky universe weaved with the help of the golden threads of melody, delicate sonic textures, and finely embroidered orchestral motifs embroidered. Going to was a cozy cocoon, a home-sweet-home in which this eternal foreigner, a songwriter without a musical family (neither folk nor pop nor rock) finally found a way to feel at home. The whole album was centered on virtually the same theme, he remembers, so much so that that directed all the musical choices the melodies the arrangements, the general atmosphere.
Peter von Poehl's exile blues has been cured thanks to his music, which has built him a roof under which he has been able to cultivate a well-adjusted sensibility. Not that he s become a homebody his constant touring over the past few years has seen him regularly leave his lair but he has understood that it s only good to hide away if you then allow yourself the freedom to escape at a moment s notice to (re)discover the world. May Day embodies the jubilation of a man who, while discovering the edges of his own universe, has not been afraid to throw open the windows of his inspiration. May Day is a constant, voluptuous back-and-forth between the desire for an interior world and that of projecting oneself out into the exterior. You feel it immediately with Parliament a song whipped up by a wildly beating rhythm section and horns played with gusto. All von Poehl s virtues are on show: his classically elegant sense of melody, his ideally dosed melanges of instruments, his unique vocal touch, and his intensely personal way of mixing together words and sound. Yet the process through which all this is revealed is different, quite simply because a breath of fresh air has blown through Peter von Poehl s music, which has become less hermetically sealed.
The whole album is moved by new vibrations, which increase the songs intensity, even if they’ve once again been made by hand. Just like Going to Where the Tea Trees Are, the majority of May Day was put together in the middle of the Swedish countryside in Christoffer Lundquist s marvellous studio. (A longtime friend and collaborator, Lundquist is once again credited as co-producer.) The arrangements on May Day are bursting with discoveries you just know
were spontaneous, specific moments that grew organically out of the sessions. The tight groove of Carrier Pigeon, the irresistible pop whirlpool of Moonshot Falls, the rough blueprints of Dust in Heaven and Near the End of the World or the knowing layering of instruments in the knock-out Elisabeth all share the same sense of discovery and the same taste for play, which stretch across all the parts of von Poehl s unclassifiable songwriting. Utterly resistant to gratuitous stylistic devices from the arrangements to the style, the rhythms to the lyrics everything on May Day is there to benefit a musicality free of harmful gimmicks.
The album saw him create a universe all his own, a silky universe weaved with the help of the golden threads of melody, delicate sonic textures, and finely embroidered orchestral motifs embroidered. Going to was a cozy cocoon, a home-sweet-home in which this eternal foreigner, a songwriter without a musical family (neither folk nor pop nor rock) finally found a way to feel at home. The whole album was centered on virtually the same theme, he remembers, so much so that that directed all the musical choices the melodies the arrangements, the general atmosphere.
Peter von Poehl's exile blues has been cured thanks to his music, which has built him a roof under which he has been able to cultivate a well-adjusted sensibility. Not that he s become a homebody his constant touring over the past few years has seen him regularly leave his lair but he has understood that it s only good to hide away if you then allow yourself the freedom to escape at a moment s notice to (re)discover the world. May Day embodies the jubilation of a man who, while discovering the edges of his own universe, has not been afraid to throw open the windows of his inspiration. May Day is a constant, voluptuous back-and-forth between the desire for an interior world and that of projecting oneself out into the exterior. You feel it immediately with Parliament a song whipped up by a wildly beating rhythm section and horns played with gusto. All von Poehl s virtues are on show: his classically elegant sense of melody, his ideally dosed melanges of instruments, his unique vocal touch, and his intensely personal way of mixing together words and sound. Yet the process through which all this is revealed is different, quite simply because a breath of fresh air has blown through Peter von Poehl s music, which has become less hermetically sealed.
The whole album is moved by new vibrations, which increase the songs intensity, even if they’ve once again been made by hand. Just like Going to Where the Tea Trees Are, the majority of May Day was put together in the middle of the Swedish countryside in Christoffer Lundquist s marvellous studio. (A longtime friend and collaborator, Lundquist is once again credited as co-producer.) The arrangements on May Day are bursting with discoveries you just know
were spontaneous, specific moments that grew organically out of the sessions. The tight groove of Carrier Pigeon, the irresistible pop whirlpool of Moonshot Falls, the rough blueprints of Dust in Heaven and Near the End of the World or the knowing layering of instruments in the knock-out Elisabeth all share the same sense of discovery and the same taste for play, which stretch across all the parts of von Poehl s unclassifiable songwriting. Utterly resistant to gratuitous stylistic devices from the arrangements to the style, the rhythms to the lyrics everything on May Day is there to benefit a musicality free of harmful gimmicks.
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